


And a Happy New Year

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Real Person FICTION - That Last is Important [18]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mattex, New Years, Non-Explicit Sex, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Because a beta already asked me, no, the Boxing Day interview mentioned here is wholly a product of my imagination. Like the rest of this story, only the names and physical descriptions match; the rest is fantasy.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amie33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/gifts), [Kehwie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kehwie/gifts).



> Because a beta already asked me, no, the Boxing Day interview mentioned here is wholly a product of my imagination. Like the rest of this story, only the names and physical descriptions match; the rest is fantasy.

“What happened to River Song?” Matt repeated the interviewer’s question. “Can’t say. Spoilers.”

The truth was, Matt thought, that he didn’t actually _know_ why River Song was not so much as mentioned in the Christmas Special. It was spoilers for him too, and maybe even for Alex, though he doubted that. Moff was careful about keeping Alex in the loop. But the fans and the reporters kept _on_ about it, as though he would be allowed to tell them even if he did know. All he had been allowed to reveal was that Clara kissed the Doctor - not the other way round - and that Clara herself was very timey-wimey. As if the fans hadn’t figured that out by themselves.

He wondered what Alex thought of it, all the rumours he’d read. Alex and Steven had had a falling-out, Alex and _Matt_ had had a falling out, Clara was River, or River’s daughter, or Jenny-the-Doctor’s-Daughter, or a flesh avatar of the TARDIS or Susan from the very first episode or Romana or the bloody _Master_... the permutations were endless, and most of them were ridiculous. Unless they were Steven’s idea; he could make the weirdest and most nonsensical things seem reasonable, even if timey-wimey in the extreme. Matt had even shown Steven a fan theory wherein Clara was Mary Poppins, who was a Time Lord, and although Steven had laughed, there had been a very thoughtful look on his face.

Matt was surprised and pleased when his mobile rang, and the ringtone - _Hello, Sweetie_ in that throaty voice - indicated that it was Alex ringing. “Hello, Miss Kingston,” he said in a low and intimate tone as he answered, “Calling to declare your undying love, are you?” She laughed and flirted right back.

“Sorry, darling, I’m the Master and your ninth self all rolled up into one, didn’t you know? Or was that Clara?” She laughed again. “The stories are outrageous, aren’t they, darling?” The chuckle turned into a sigh, and she said in a lower tone, “I do rather miss it though, Matt. You and me and Karen and Arthur, all together. Right. Well...” She trailed off and her voice grew bright again. “I’m in town - well, in London - for a fortnight and I’d like to see you,” Matt bit his tongue hard to keep from exclaiming in delight; she wanted to see _him_. But she was still talking. “All of you,” she said, and he felt so disappointed he didn’t even make the obvious joke.

“I’m in London. You can have me,” Matt heard himself saying, and he hurried on before she thought... well. “And I think Darvill’s in town. But you’ll have to pry Kaz from her mum’s cold, dead hands in Inverness if you want to see her. Haven’t you seen her at all in L.A.?”

“I haven’t _been_ in L.A. darling,” Alex said. “I was at Christmas but by then Karen was here. In Inverness, I mean. Before that I was in Australia with Brian for the convention.” She sighed. “In any case, I’d love to see you. And Arthur.”

“Right then,” Matt said as cheerfully as he could manage. “You come on over to my flat and I’ll ring Darvill up.” He ignored her babbling protests that she didn’t really mean _now_ ; she was sure they must have better things to do than hang about with _her_. “Alex. _Alex_. If you’re not too knackered over the flight, I’d love to see you. I’ll feed you...” Now he was wheedling and Alex acquiesced. She'd be there at half-six, they decided, and if nothing in his flat appealed to her, they’d go out to eat. Matt would ring Darvill. “Make you feel welcome back on your own home shore, Alex.”

\--/--

Alex hoped she’d feel welcome. Because right now, she felt stupid. Mooning after him like a lovesick fan, jealous that he’d... well, not _Matt_ as such, but the Doctor - the eleventh one - he was _hers_ , dammit, and River didn’t even get a mention. Not even a _sorry, I’m a married man_. It was stupid; River wasn’t mentioned in every episode, and she hadn’t really thought much of it after that daft little pang of jealousy as Clara kissed the Doctor. Which she quickly suppressed as she was watching the episode with her daughter of course.

Until she read Matt’s interview on Boxing Day.

That was stupid too, the way she followed every little thing he did. Bit stalkerish really; she didn’t do that with Karen or Arthur, although she adored them. _Silly old woman with a crush on her co-star_ , she chided herself as she wrestled with her hair before going to Matt’s flat to meet him and Arthur. Well, a nice supper with them before they’d undoubtedly go off for the whirlwind of New Years Eve parties tomorrow... it would be a good thing. Even if Karen wouldn’t be there. _All right, Alex,_ she told herself, _stop fretting and have a nice time with your favourite co-stars tonight_. And she pasted a smile on her face as she slipped out the door of her hotel room. By the time she reached Matt’s flat she had jollied herself into a bit of a holiday mood, and she knocked at his door with a lighter heart.

When he opened it, her stomach did a slow roll. God, he looked good enough to _eat_ , all long neck and kind hazel eyes and floppy hair. And he just reached out and yanked her unceremoniously into a tight hug in his flat, undoing all the trouble she’d taken with her hair by burying his face in it. “Matt?” It was a quiet question all on its own, but he just held on. “Matt, darling, you’re trembling. Are you all right? You’re not ill?” He shook his head against her hair.

“I’ve missed you,” Matt muttered against her scalp, and reluctantly let her go as she pulled away slightly to look up at him, only to reach out and gently stroke her jaw with one thumb. “Alex...?” he whispered, and then the hand on her face slipped back into her hair, and he was kissing her.

\--/--

 _Oh god_ , Matt thought, _I’m kissing Alex. And she’s kissing me back. No hesitation, no silly coy..._ his thoughts trailed off as she sighed into his mouth. And then it was all _sensations_ , soft wet lips and questing tongues and her hips slamming into his and his hands in her hair and hers clenched in his t-shirt, tugging it out of his jeans. He could hear her panting his name and was vaguely aware that he was doing the same when they heard a bang on the street door. They sprang apart as though they’d been singed, and stood staring at each other until Arthur’s voice came clearly through the closed door.

“Oi, Matt, you in there? I don’t have all night for dinner; I’m due back on stage at nine. Alex here yet?” Matt smiled at Alex, who gave him a little shrug and a grin back, and reached behind her to open his door. Matt realised it was a good thing she’d been pulling at his shirt, because un-tucked it covered the... er... evidence.

Alex opened the door and gave Arthur a wide smile and a quick hug. “Hello, darling Dad,” she said in a gently mocking tone, “Ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. Tried to get you tickets for the show tonight but it’s sold out. You’re invited to the cast New Year party though, my guests, yeah?” They both nodded, and Alex said that would be lovely, and they organised themselves for a nice dinner out.

It _was_ a nice dinner, but Matt spent the first half of it silently fretting that he had scared Alex off; she was treating him just like she always did, and treating Darvill much the same way. Flirty but apart. But when Arthur excused himself to use the loo, Alex reached under the table and squeezed Matt’s thigh. He gaped at her, and when she winked at him, he thought he understood, and made a mental note to speak with her when they could be alone. She would have a good reason for it.

Still, it was an endless meal before Darvill got up and went to work.

They walked him back to the theatre, and then Matt got a cab for him and Alex. “Will you stay?” It was said in a low tone as he handed her into the taxi, and she shook her head, curls bouncing around her face. He sighed and closed her door, then went around the cab to the other side and slid in. “Why?”

“I...” she said, and stopped.

“Right then,” said Matt to the driver, and gave the address of the hotel where Alex stayed in London when she didn’t stay with her parents. Then he dropped his voice, leaning close. “Do you regret...?” Alex shook her head again and pulled away slightly. “But... oh.” He sat back a bit. “You’d want to talk to Salome first, wouldn’t you? Before she reads something in the paper. ‘River and the Doctor together at last’ or some such nonsense.”

“Yes.” It was that same yes that River herself had used in the garden of Amy and Rory’s wedding, and Matt knew it meant everything - _yes_ , and _exactly_ , and _thank you for understanding_ \- so he bopped Alex lightly on the nose and sat back.

“Will I see you tomorrow at the party then?” he asked in a much more normal tone of voice, and she smiled at him and said that yes again, and he was content.

For now. 

 _Damn frustrating though,_ Matt thought later. Alex had just... curled right into him, as though they were long-time lovers, because it felt... _right_. Like they had been heading here all along, and had only waited until the time was right... and then been told they had to wait a bit longer. Oh, he understood _why_ ; he didn’t want Salome shocked by a tabloid any more than Alex did. Imagine how much Salome might resent him, Matt, might think he was taking her mother away, if the paps got to her before Alex could. So he did understand.

But it was hard. And not only difficult, he thought wryly as he showered in icy water.

\--/--

 _Oh God, this is hard,_ thought Alex, _but_...

But it didn’t have to be. She knew Salome adored Matt; Salome would be fine. She just... Salome was old enough now to get her hands on tabloids, or have friends tease her at school, or god forbid have the paparazzi ask her questions, and Alex wanted to forewarn her daughter before she read it in some rag. ‘River and the Doctor together at last’ as Matt had said - it was the _least_ frightening headline she could think of, and she’d really rather tell Salome herself that she and Matt were... _dating_ was the best term to use with a pre-teen, she decided... before some sensationalist threw it at the poor girl.

She couldn’t call until tomorrow; Salome was spending the night with a friend, and she and Alex had made a phone date for ten minutes to midnight GMT tomorrow. Alex would have to wait to talk to her daughter until then... and stay away from Matt in the meantime. At least in public, or in such a way as the public might guess what they were up to (such as staying in his flat overnight).

Alex was honest with herself. She wanted Matt, had pretty much since they’d met, and it had been evident that he wanted her just as much. Especially this evening. They had... meshed tonight, almost instantly, as though they had been long time lovers meeting after a long absence. And she _wanted_ that connection, that instant sort of understanding with a man. That it should be _Matt_ with that sort of connection, well... it was wonderful.

It was more wonderful when her mobile rang, Matt’s ringtone, saying _shouldn’t like that, kinda do a bit_ , in that warm and flirty voice. “Hello, Sweetie,” she said into the phone as she answered, and she could hear the smile in her own voice.

“Hello, Alex.” God, his voice was like warm velvet, stroking against her skin, and she wanted him more than ever. “Alex, I...” He trailed off and now his tone was doubtful but still soft and a little rough.

“Me too,” Alex said softly, and sighed, and heard him do the same. His sigh was very nearly a frustrated groan, and it went straight to her centre. “Uncomfortable, darling?” he said, and his response was an inarticulate and needy sound. “Ahh...” she murmured, “Let’s see if we can take care of that right now, shall we?” She shifted to lie on the hotel room bed and set her phone up to be hands-free. “Put me on the speaker, Matt,” she suggested, and he groaned aloud as he complied.

“Alex, I, it’s not just--”

“Matt, if it was just sex we’d have done it a long time ago.” Alex stretched and began to work on her buttons. “This is _more_. Listen to me.” She finished with the buttons, and knew from the rustling sounds coming from the mobile that he was doing the same. “There now,” she said in a low tone as the rustling stopped, “Close your eyes. Can you see me? I know you’ve seen my films, and I don’t look that... firm anymore. No, don’t interrupt me. But imagine me as you remember me from the films. And touch yourself.” There was a low groan and Alex smiled to herself. “I know _I_ am, Matt, because I remember - quite well - what you looked like in those two films. All I have to do is touch myself and think of you...” Her breath hitched as she did just that. “And I’m gone...” And then it was all low moans and whispered secrets and murmurs of _oh yes, right there!_ and _can you feel me touching you?_ and _I’ve wanted you for so long_.

And eventually, they fell asleep, apart but together.

 

 

 

 


	2. Together

_Good lord,_ Alex thought, _he’s trying to kill me_. She had thought the long slope of Matt’s throat had looked delectable yesterday, and that was before they’d... well, before they’d made love to each other. Separately and over the phone to be sure, but it _had_ been making love; Alex was old enough to know the difference. And here he was, with his shirt open at the neck and a potted poinsettia plant cradled in one arm, and she wanted to _bite_ him, gently, just there where his jaw met the line of his throat..

 _She’s trying to kill me,_ Matt thought, as he looked at Alex standing hipshot in the doorway of her hotel room. Her hair was in a cloud around her face, and she wore a short blue dress that... well, she _could_ fell an ox with that neckline. She smiled at him and he realised that she was wearing heels, those heels that _did_ things to him, because they meant he and she matched up, hip to hip and chest to breasts and... mouth to mouth.

And her mouth was right _there_ , but they were standing in a doorway in a public hallway of a popular hotel, so... no. Not until she was able to talk to Salome in any case.

Matt sighed, and Alex smiled at him, simply because she was happy he understood. Bless him. “Midnight,” she whispered, and his face lit up all over, as though he was glowing from within. He winked at her and offered her the potted plant. She accepted it and beckoned him inside but he shook his head. Alex shrugged and took the plant to the tiny kitchenette in her hotel suite, and set it down to give it water. This accomplished, she got her tiny handbag and a wrap, which Matt insisted on settling round her shoulders.

Then he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” Alex breathed, and took his arm.

\--/--

How sweet he was. Why hadn’t she realised until now how very sweet Matt could be? He was... _courtly_ was the word that came to mind. Handing her in and out of limousines as though she were someone special, royalty or something like that. And he _understood_ her. Never mind that he wasn’t a parent, that he was nearly twenty years her junior; he understood her reticence where public displays were concerned, and he abided by her wishes. No matter how much it pained him, and it clearly had, until... and here Alex actually felt herself blushing, which hadn’t happened over a mere thought in _years_ , and she watched Matt as he raised a thoughtful eyebrow at her.

Um, yes. He understood her; it was almost like he knew what she was thinking as she blushed.

So as he rushed around the limo to open her door at the restaurant they had chosen for before the party at Arthur’s theatre, Alex sighed happily. Everything would be grand, so long as Salome was all right with her mother dating Matt, and Alex was sure she would be. As long as they could get to her, explain things, before she saw something on the news.

It was the same restaurant as the three of them had eaten at the night before, and tonight it was crammed with people - the theatre set mostly as it had been yesterday - but a lot more of them. Matt smiled at Alex and grasped her hand, tugging gently until she followed him to the maitre d's podium, slightly out of the crush. “Two,” he said to the man in the tuxedo, “Name of Smith.” The maitre d’ smiled coolly and asked them to follow him, leading them to a table in a secluded booth in a (relatively) quiet corner. The man left to find the wine steward, and Matt leaned in to speak quietly. “I’m not above using celebrity - mine or yours - to get a little privacy if you like, Kingston,” he breathed into her ear. “But I thought that might be covered under the no-public-displays-until you-talk-to-Salome rule. Is it?”

Alex stared at him. How _did_ he do that? Reassure her, know so well that under the brash and flirty Actress Face there was a worried mother, terrified of hurting her child? She shook her head, suddenly choked up with gratitude that he _did_ , and felt her eyes fill. Matt made a concerned noise in his throat and put one hand over hers. “Don’t cry, Kingston.” He sighed theatrically and looked at his watch. “I can wait another four hours. I think.” He gave her a big grin and startled her into a chuckle. And then everything was back to normal; all flirty verbal chit chat but nothing to give the press anything to talk about.

“Matt?” He looked up from his pasta. “Thanks for this,” Alex said, gesturing at the table. “It’s so nice to have... _normal_ , you know? A dinner out with a friend, a party to go to later. I like it. I would even if it weren’t for the... probability of dessert later.” She smiled at him, and watched as the expression on his face went from kind through amused to mildly shocked and then thoughtful. And as he blushed a little, which she found terribly endearing. He was so... so _adult_ in many ways, she reflected, much like his Doctor, with an air of old man in a young body. But get him with Arthur and Karen together, or make slightly more blatant suggestive remarks than usual, and he blushed and giggled like a child. She wondered sometimes. “Does it bother you, Matt?” she asked now, voice low. “That I’m so much older than you, I mean.”

Matt looked shocked, and just a tiny bit hurt. “Of course not. Did you think it would? Alex, I...” But she was shaking her head. _Oh dear_ , she thought, _I didn’t mean to put him on the spot_.

“I didn’t. I _don’t_. But it surprises me, sometimes, that it doesn’t. I _am_ old enough to be your mum after all, and--”

“ _Alex_ ,” he interrupted in a low and intense tone, and she could see that she _had_ hurt him. She tried to apologise, but he was still talking. “Alex, if I had not promised you that I would not give the press ammunition, I would dive across this table to _show_ you how little I care for the age difference. _I want you_. Isn’t that enough proof that I don’t give two _shits_ about our respective ages?” He held her gaze with his until she nodded and dropped her eyes, then went back to his pasta. “Besides,” he said in a voice that was still low but more intimate than intense, “wasn’t it you who told the _Observer_ that you hoped I _didn’t_ see you as a mother figure? Hmm?”

She batted at him with one hand, relieved and trying not to show it. “Yes. Now... speaking of dessert, we should likely get to the theatre for the party. It’s nearly gone ten o’clock.”

\--/-- 

 _Good party_ , Matt thought, _but all I want from it is her_. He stood with Alex and Darvill, chatting amiably under the rather loud music.

“Oi, mate,” said a random passer-by, a young man who played several bit parts in the play Darvill was in. “You’re the Doctor, eh?” Matt nodded and made an effort to put on his game face, but the man clapped him on the back and stage-whispered, “That River Song is one hot bird. I’d rather do Rose meself though.” Matt blinked as the young man wandered off, and Alex began to laugh.

“How much had he had, darling? He didn’t even notice that the hot bird to whom he referred was standing next to you.” Alex was amused.

“Jush... just as well,” said Arthur carefully. He’d had rather a lot himself, Matt thought, and what if he gave the game away? He had to _know_ , or at least suspect; Darvill was _not_ stupid, and he was very perceptive. “Because our Doctor here is a jealous one when it comes to his wife.” He leered in a friendly fashion at Alex, and Matt decided not to kill him. Since he was keeping it in _Who_ context, pissed or no.

“Well now,” said Alex, who looked to Matt as though she was nervous, although she had her Actress Face on; slightly amused and casually flirtatious. “Has anyone the time? I’ve a date with my daughter by mobile at ten to midnight.”

“Yes, it’s twenty to; we’d best find you somewhere quiet. Ish,” said Darvill, looking around. “Dressing room, maybe?” They followed him backstage but he opened the dressing room door, peeked in, and slammed it shut again. “It’s er... not quiet in there.” Alex started giggling, as they could all now hear the panting moans through the flimsy dressing room door.

“Stage door,” she suggested, “Matt can lend me his jacket.” And Matt wordlessly followed her out the door.

It was snowing lightly, and Alex laughed again. “Bits of spaceship, do you think?”

“Now Kingston,” he chided her gently, “You know that’s Tennant’s thing. I’m more a Great Intelligence Snow sort of a man. And that’s your phone,” he said, and laughed softly as he heard _are you my mummy_ in a child’s voice from her tiny handbag. “You really are a fan.” He smiled at her as she fished the mobile out.

“Hello, my darling,” Alex said into the phone, and Matt could hear the tones but not the words of Salome’s voice as she chattered to her mother. “Yes, honey, I’m here with Matt. He liked the ringtone you chose for me.” Her eyes and smile met his. “And Salome, I... one moment.” She put one hand over the phone. “Matt darling, could you... I’d like to tell her this without you hovering.” Matt nodded and stepped back to lean against the wall, trying hard not to eavesdrop, running lines in his head to distract himself from the murmur of Alex’s voice. His attention was yanked back by a squealing sound coming from the phone, which Alex was now holding away from her ear, with a pained expression on her face. “Matt, she wants to talk to you,” she said simply, holding the phone out to him. He shook his head, but she insisted, shaking the phone at him.

He took it.

“Hello, Salome,” he said solemnly, and the little girl laughed.

“Matty! I’ve missed you.”

Matt relaxed. This wasn’t going to be weird after all. “I’ve missed you too, poppet. Now...” He made a show of looking at his watch for Alex’s benefit. “It’s nearly midnight here and I intend to kiss your mother at the stroke. That okay with you?”

“Of course. I wish you would, Matty. She... she’d like it, you know, because it’s you.” _I certainly hope so_ , thought Matt, and he smiled.

“Salome,” he said, back to solemnity. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Matt handed the phone back to Alex, who whispered into it and tucked it into her purse.

Then she took a deep breath, and sort of... _flowed_ into his arms. “Five,” she said, “Four. Three. Two. One. Happy New Year, darling.” And she kissed him.

And oh god, the kiss was _glorious_. Soft and sweet and hot all at once, and he had been right, they did match up hip to hip, and she was trying to eat him alive and... and...

“Smile!”

\--/--

Alex was laughing and breathless when they got back to Matt’s flat. “It’s a good thing...” she gasped, “That River Song taught me to... run in heels...”

The man with the camera hadn’t been a reporter. A fan, really, and a fairly nice one at that. But their New Year kiss - and it had been a good one - would be plastered all over the Internet by morning, if it wasn’t already.

Matt wasn’t laughing, although a smile played at the corners of his mouth as he unlocked his door and ushered Alex inside, closing and re-locking the door behind them. He turned to look at her and found himself with a warm and squirming armful of Alex Kingston, and he groaned as she threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him.

“Matt?” Her voice was low and husky and _hot_.

“Mmm...” he murmured against her mouth.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered.

“I’ll make it a good one.”

“You’d better.”

 

 


End file.
